Be True
by Dea Lux
Summary: Michael is lost, very lost. He's hit an all-time low that even money can't make go away. Maybe it was chance or fate that allowed him to meet Alice Mertes, a woman whose much younger, has an education, and has never dealt with the underworld that Michael glories in. No one is perfect and no one goes through life unscathed, as Michael comes to learn. (Rated M because I'm unsure)
1. A is for Asshole

**Hello! This will be my first attempt at the GTA universe. As of right now, Be True is a side project, but I hope you'll enjoy it, nonetheless. Please, please, please, I'd love to hear back from all of you! A writer can only get better through constructive criticism and I'd be so grateful for the feedback. Of course, I will get back to each and every one of you if you review. Feel free to PM me about ideas or concerns you may have. I'll get back to you as soon as I can.**

 **Ok, obviously, I do not own Grand Theft Auto, any of it's characters, the song briefly mentioned, or etc. My only claim will be the OCs that will appear as the story develops.**

 **Without further ado, please enjoy!**

* * *

Everything was blurry, and the world kept spinning round and round. Colors mixed together, too. Soft whites eventually merged with the dark solid grey of the sky heavy with rain, the softer and grainy grey of the concrete upon which he stumbled, and the green from what grass was growing in between the concrete's cracks. His stomach lurched with each swaying motion his surroundings took, threatening for what little contents it held among the vast amounts of liquor to make a comeback. Still, Michael De Santa kept walking with the near empty liquor bottle tightly clutched in his grasp.

The sound of the running traffic registered in his mind, but he paid little heed to it. It was just like that every day. Every one's life kept going on and on like the highways and roads that riddled Los Santos. But his, Michael's, life had either been taken out by an explosion or had just veered off into the sea. He just could never get it fucking right! When he had been a criminal with a family, he had wanted the normality of a life without crime so they could be the icon of what a family should be. Tough fucking tits! Once he had obtained it, his family had crumbled into a nightmare. Michael wasn't entirely blameless. He _had_ cheated on Amanda and had never been much of a father to his kids. And he had pined for missing the thrills and power that Michael had experienced with every heist until he became a fat fuck wasting away by a swimming pool. Franklin's coming had been a mixed blessing. On one hand, Michael was able to live in what he did best, shoot the obstacles before him and selecting the smoothest course possible; but, with all his glory, his family had gone, and he had felt their absence as he had never before. Yea, he could be one of the coldest persons on Earth, squeezing the trigger of his rifle without a second thought (that is, until it was all over and he was sitting in front of a therapist), but he wasn't untouchable. As much as his family had annoyed and driven him insane, Michael loved them. Then, for a glorious moment, he had all of it: the biggest score in history and the family life he had wanted, plus his psychotic best friend, his overgrown and ill cyber comrade, and the ever faithful and capable protégé. But no! Life had a nasty way of pulling the rug from under him. Even with all the money he had obtained, his and Amanda's crazy and dysfunctional marriage had fizzled and died. They divorced and the kids had followed their mother. She had kept the house and Michael had been left living in a fancy apartment all by his miserable self. To the very day, some years later, Michael was still unsure what he had done wrong. He had obliged to every of Amanda's whims, watched her face and body become more prosthetic than flesh, but it hadn't been enough. He had gradually felt her distance and experienced more of her temper. There was always something wrong, something he had forgotten to do, or whatever crap happened to first pop into her mind. Enough had been enough. Michael had made the mistake of sleeping with another woman in a pathetic effort to feel wanted again and Amanda had found out. Granted, he probably should not have cheated on Amanda again. Not that it mattered, everything was his fault and Michael had the feeling that it would have come to the divorce sooner or later.

Thunder softly rumbled overhead, barely audible over the noise of the vehicles. It wasn't long until he became aware that a wind had picked up, bringing the clean scent, or as clean as it ever was going to get in the godforsaken city, of rain and the promise of a storm. It didn't make his stumbling any easier, though Michael was becoming conscious that the effects of the liquor were starting to wane ever so slightly. No sooner had he made the realization, he downed the rest of the contents in the bottle. Just great, now he had nothing in which to drown. A really loud and obnoxious horn sounded to his right, hurting his eardrum. Suppressed anger erupted within; anger at Amanda for leaving him and pushing him away; anger at being left alone again, and at whatever prick had temporarily broken though his stupor. He hadn't realized that he was standing in the middle of an intersection and was holding up traffic. The offender was a young man in some fancy ass car who was quite obviously cussing at him from the safety of the confines of his car. "Well, fuck you, too!" Michael shouted, showing him his middle finger. Another loud honk had his eardrum and head hurting as the driver retaliated. Furious, Michael threw the empty bottle at the windshield of the shiny red car and heard it shatter on impact before making his way to the other side. Maybe if he hadn't been drunk, Michael would have heard the angry shouts of the owner of the car or the heavy footsteps that splashed from the rain that had begun to fall, but all he noticed was a sudden pressure on his shoulder that had him spinning around, followed by an incredible pain from the bottom of his chin. He heard himself groan at the punch but could do nothing to retaliate nor prevent himself from falling on his back to look at dull gray clouds and feel the rain falling on his face. This wasn't so bad, was it? The concrete was cool on his back and the grass sort of cushioned his head, but he was starting to feel the cold seep in. Michael wasn't sure how long he laid there, only vaguely aware that the gentle rain had turned into a torrent. All he managed was to shift to his side so the rain wouldn't go up his nose.

All of a sudden, he was aware of small warm pressure underneath his arm and opposite shoulder, urging him upwards. He really didn't want to move, but the pressure kept insisting on hoisting him off the floor. With a groan, Michael complied and would have fallen to his knees if it hadn't been for the support of whatever he was hanging on to. New warmth was beginning to seep into his side and, for once, Michael was very grateful. He took step after step until his surroundings shifted, exclaimed in pain when his head collided with something hard, heard an alarmed voice, and then found himself sitting somewhere dry and clean. It was the inside of a car. He recognized the soft feeling of the seat beneath him, the restraining force of the seat belt, the purr of an engine, and the sound of a door slamming shut. Whose car was it, though? He seriously doubted that Franklin or Trevor had chanced upon him and were taking his sorry ass home. Nah, it couldn't be them. For one, whoever was driving was much smaller than either of them. The car owner also carried the scent of something flowery or fruity so that sure as hell wasn't Trevor. What the hell did it matter anyways? Sleepiness was overtaking him and had almost won him over when he was being urged again to move.

The cold air from an A/C had him and his support shivering. His mind was lucid enough were he could tell a few things and comply with what was asked of him. There was soft light from the confines they were in; an elevator, if he was correct. Not much made noise beside his companion's breathing, slightly uneven with exertion. Something jingled close by, then they were moving again into somewhere unfamiliar but not alarming. He should be alarmed, though, right? Michael was left sitting for a little while on something comfortable and had nearly dozed again when he was gently shaken into a little more alertness. He complied almost robotically and felt warm water coursing down his tired body. A shower, huh? Well, what the hell. The water was nice anyways. Sleep would be much nicer, though. It was not too long before he was enveloped in something warm, fuzzy, and soft, before he was finally placed on a bed so comfortable and warm that sleep immediately took him.

* * *

He didn't want to move, that's for sure. His eyes remained determinedly shut, until, finally, the last of the booze cleared his system. Slowly, he allowed himself to become aware of his surroundings. He was wearing what he was sure was a bathrobe. Besides that, his clothes were MIA. The bed was slightly small, definitely smaller than the huge bed he had in his own apartment, but enough for two people to sleep in. Everything was covered in that sweet scent he recognized from the car of whoever had felt sorry for him. He was very glad that it wasn't a very pungent scent, though. Often, he had complained to Amanda of the headaches her perfumes and lotions caused him, but she had always dismissed his complaints. He and the kids had often joked that she used the perfumes instead of water when she bathed. No, this scent was soft, kinda like an afterthought or how the wind carries the scent of moist earth but doesn't leave it behind. When he finally opened his eyes, the room was covered in semidarkness, illuminated by the gentle glow of a lamp by the nightstand next to him. The bed was opposite a large, nearly floor-to-ceiling, window which was obscured by curtains of a light blue. A door to his right was slightly ajar into what he assumed was a bathroom. That was fortunate, because his bladder was near bursting. Reluctantly, Michael separated himself from the bed and headed into the clean bathroom. He couldn't help but notice that everything was in perfect order, not a thing out of place, to a point where he felt he was intruding. Well, he really was. Once done with his business, Michael returned to the room, wondering what to do. He couldn't stay forever. Whoever she was, and he was sure his rescuer was a woman, she might have family that probably wouldn't sit tight while she let a stranger into her home.

With another quick glance around the room, Michael noticed a few things. The place wasn't lavished in the expensive items he had once had in his Rockford Hills house, nor the apartment he was staying at. Every item was of moderate make, neither invaluable nor useless, but well taken care of. The woman must not be doing badly at all to afford such a place. Amanda, used to her new life, though, would have scoffed at the cheap material of the curtains, and the value brand of the hand soap. A slight growl of irritation escaped from his lips. Why did everything always went back to Amanda this and Amanda that? It was stupid and idiotic, but he just couldn't let it go. Fuck Amanda! At the very least, he couldn't associate the books he found around the room to her. The books that had been at the mansion had been his. The irritation that he felt wasn't quite leaving him. When he found his clothes neatly folded on one corner of the bed, there was a tad bit of aggression as he put them on. Damn, the woman had even taken the time to wash and dry his clothes if the scent of fabric softener was any indication. What was she? A fucking saint or what?

With one last look at the bedroom, Michael exited it and closed the door softly behind him. Soft music reached him. His ears involuntarily began to attempt to decipher the song but the volume was set too low for him to make anything out. As he neared the small hallway's end, he picked up a soft voice singing in almost a whisper. "...you are all I long for, worship and adore. In other words, please be true...,*" his ears made out. Michael wanted to chuckle. Of course she'd be a sap for the lovey stuff. He had to give her some credit, though. He kind of recognized the song and, if he was correct, it was a very old song; older than his obsession with the 80s. It was kind of a disappointment when he rounded the corner and saw she wasn't dressed in a pencil skirt, red heels, pinup curls, and polka-dotted apron as he imagined. Instead of a skirt or dress, she had a pair of comfortable-looking grey pants and a loose blue shirt with sleeves that reached her elbows. There were no heels, just a pair of comfortable light brown flats. And she was young, at least 10 years younger than he was. He could tell right away by the smoothness of her peach skin. Her hair wasn't even short but a long mane of black hair held loosely by a hairband. The woman was unaware of his presence, much to his irritation. He could have quickly gone up to her and snapped her neck before she even realized what had happened. Did she not have any sense of self-preservation? Or was he such a fat and pathetic turd that someone as small as her did not view as a threat? Not knowing what else to do, Michael cleared his throat to gain her attention. She turned around with startled green eyes and, he did not fail to notice, knife in hand from where she had been slicing some vegetable. Neither said anything, awkward to the situation. _She_ had brought a stranger to her house. _He_ had passed out drunk on the side of the road. Both situations weren't exactly conversation starters.

"Uh, nice song," Michael tried, noticing her phone was hooked to a speaker via a cable and the song had ended. Not wanting to seem like he was scrutinizing her, he looked around. The rest of her apartment was divided into three sections: kitchen, dining room, and living room. There were no walls for subdivisions, save for the kitchen island that divided kitchen and dining area, so he was able to see everything. A few cupboards lined what was the kitchen area, and shelves filled with more books and movies lined the living room. A few side tables were placed against the walls. There was a TV that looked so small compared to the projector he had had in his living room, but, he assumed, was of a modest size.

"I hope I didn't disturb you," she answered, placing the knife on the island, next to the bowl of sliced cucumber, and turned off the music player.

"No, no, I slept great, thank you," he assured, clasping his hands together, confused as to how to go on or if he should hightail it from there. She smiled contently, obviously pleased, before stepping forward with her hand extended.

"Alice Mertes, pleased to meet you," she offered, waiting for him to answer.

"Michael De Santa," he said, shaking her hand but not without noticing how much smaller it was than his. Her body must have ached from dragging his fat ass into her car and thereafter.

"Are you hungry, Mr. De Santa?" she asked, moving back to her stove, turning off the heat, and finished slicing the cucumber. He was about to answer 'no' when his stomach growled a little too loudly. Whatever she was making, it smelled delicious. Michael wasn't sure when he had eaten food that wasn't from a bar or from a box. Alice turned around with another smile and motioned for him to sit at the table. Michael sat, still uneasy about the whole thing. "Tea, Mr. De Santa?" she asked, taking two glasses from a cupboard.

"It's Michael and yea, I'd appreciate it," he answered. He knew he was much older than she was but Mr. De Santa made him feel ancient, not to mention that this was her home. Alice nodded in acknowledgement and set a full glass and pitcher before him. Michael watched her as she moved about, noticing that there was an almost imperceptible limp to her right leg. Poor woman must be sore, he thought. "Listen, Ms. Mertes, I wanted to apologize and thank you for helping me out," he said. She set a plate of chicken, rice, and cucumbers before him before taking a seat with a plate and glass of her own.

"Alice," she said, "but you have nothing to apologize. I couldn't leave you in the rain." Michael nodded, accepting the utensils she offered before digging in. Neither said a word while they ate. Alice, it seemed, was quite content to simply be, but Michael had been alone for so long, he wanted a little conversation. It would be nice to have a normal chat instead of Trevor's rants or the sound of his TV for companionship.

"So, uh, Alice what do you do for a living?" Michael asked. He had just about wolfed down the food before him except for the cucumbers. Amanda had tried making something with them at one point in time, but that had been an absolute disaster that he'd become wary of cucumbers as a whole. Alice, on the other hand, was munching on a piece of cucumber, unaware that he was trying to think of a way to get out of eating them. Not wanting to be a complete asshole, though, Michael picked one up with his fork and plopped it into his mouth. The taste of lemon and salt was the only thing he tasted, much to his relief; this he very much liked.

"I work over at the USLA," Alice said. "And you?"

Michael felt that maybe it was best to leave things as it should be. "I'm retired," he answered, please let her drop it. So much for wanting conversation. Maybe there was a reason why he could only have conversations of any length with six people, more or less. They were all either involved in his messes or criminals like he was.

"How do you like retirement?" Alice asked and something snapped within Michael. How did he like retirement? Oh, everything was rainbows and sunshine until someone decided to screw him over! Or better yet, until he decided to screw someone and his ex-wife decided that she'd had enough of his sarcastic self and said 'fuck-you' to all the years they had spent together. It didn't matter that _she_ had been screwing left and right, but it was he who was to blame for everything.

"Oh, it's fucking great," Michael muttered. He noticed Alice's eyes gaze worriedly at him, slightly shifting nervously with the sudden change of his mood. Great, he was making her nervous. Well, good! Finally something made sense since he woke up! It wasn't her fault, though, and he shouldn't take it out on her. He had stood from the table to take a breather when he noticed one of the couches had a folded blanket and a pillow just like the one he had slept with. For fuck's sake, she had slept on the couch _in her own house!_ "Let me ask you on damn question?" he turned to her. Alice didn't move or say anything, simply looked back at him, waiting nervously. "Who the hell brings a stranger to their house? I mean, for all you know, I could be a sicko, or-or a psychopath waiting for an opportunity. Do you have a messiah complex? Or was I just your good deed of the day? Well, whoop-dee-fucking-doo for you!"

"I'm sorry," Alice apologized, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to make herself as small as possible. "I just-just wanted to help."

"Well, why do you give a shit about an old fuck like me?" Michael persisted. "You know what, I don't care. Thanks for your help. Oh, and a piece of advice, don't bring anymore drunken bastards. You're going to get yourself _killed_ , for Pete's sake!"

With one last glance at the woman quietly sitting at her dining table, Michael turned on his heel and slammed the door to her apartment shut. He angrily jabbed at the buttons for the elevator. Anger still coursed through him as the metal box descended and he hailed a cab to take him home once out of the apartment building. It wasn't until he was back in his apartment with a glass of whiskey that regret began to seep in with a touch of shame. "Fuckin' A," he groaned, sinking into a chair and burying his face into his hands. All the while, Alice's troubled face never left his mind. Yea, fuckin' A for 'fucking asshole".

* * *

*"Fly Me to the Moon" by Brenda Lee - I do _not_ own this song!

 **I hope everyone has liked this! Please do let me know your thoughts! Did anyone recognize the song before reaching the bottom to read its name? I know that Brenda Lee is not the only one to sing this song, there's other versions. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Until next time!**

 **\- Dea Lux**


	2. Interventions

**First, I'd like to acknowledge Anon and I would love to be able to change the format of how the first chapter looks for an easier read. Unfortunately, I'm very limited to what I can do in regards to it. The document looks so much different in Word than it does here. I'm not sure why, but automatically re-formats the font, size, and layout. Hopefully this chapter might be a little easier to read. If you PM me, maybe I can send you a Word copy. I'm always open to suggestions if you, or anyone, has them**

 **So, here we are, second chapter. I realize that the chapters are on the slow side, but it won't always be so. I just want to establish a natural relationship between Michael and Alice, or as natural as can be in Los Santos. Anyways, this chapter will feature our favorite Canadian. I do want to keep the characters in character so, please, it'd be very helpful if you'd let me know how I'm doing on that front.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Michael awoke from another drunken sleep by the sound of his door being pounded in a very annoying manner. "Shit," he sighed. Only one person in his life 'knocked' like that. The only reason that said person was knocking was because Michael usually kept his apartment door locked, otherwise his guest would have just walked in. For a second or two, Michael contemplated on not answering. Honestly, he was tired and not in the mood for company. The ferocity with which the front door was being pounded increased, convincing him to accept the inevitable before his friend decided to kick down his door. With a groan, Michael got up from his bed, sort of navigating through the mess of clothes lying in piles, empty liquor bottles, and boxes of take-out. At one point, he'd have to clean up; there was no fucking way he was going to turn into Trevor.

Speaking of, when Michael opened the door, he was greeted by the smell of piss and beer. "Hey, T," he greeted, moving so Trevor could enter.

"About fucking time," Trevor said. "Any longer and I would have assumed you'd succumb to your clogged arteries." Without waiting to be asked, Trevor took a seat in one of the sofas, grabbed the TV control, and began flipping through channels before settling on a rerun of _Impotent Rage_. He accepted the beer that Michael offered who sat on couch to his right. The fat man had a beer of his own and was drinking it rather fast. Trevor watched him, noticing the slumped shoulders and unusual unkemptness of Michael's attire. Before Amanda left him, Michael had always made it to be in clean and pressed clothing. It was a somewhat stark contrast to the once-white shirt and the wrinkled gray suit pants he wore. A much more pronounced stubble was growing on his chin, and that, he knew, was something Michael had really hated. "When's the last fucking time you left this apartment?" he asked.

Michael grunted, draining the last of his beer. Instead of getting up to throw it away, he just let the bottle slide from his fingers and onto the carpeted floor. "I don't know," he eventually answered, eyes glued to the screen.

"Have you spoken to Franklin and Lester?" Trevor said, feeling irritation begin to surface at the lethargic motherfucker.

"Few days ago," Michael said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Let's call them up! Go out and have ourselves a grand ol' time," Trevor suggested, clapping his hands together and sitting up. Michael however seemed unmoved.

"You guys go. I just wanna catch some shuteye," Michael declined. "Besides, Lester's at the hospital again, won't be coming out until a couple of days."

"Even better," Trevor said, "We won't have to hold back because of Wheels. Let's get crazy!"

"I think I'll pass," Michael sighed. Trevor growled in frustration and chucked the beer bottle in his hand at his friend. The bottle spilled beer as it soared through the air and collided with Michael's bare shoulder. "Man, what the fuck!" With a growl of his own anger rising, Michael stood and used a paper towel to dry his shoulder, but the beer had gotten into his shirt.

"Enough with the pathetic moping!" Trevor answered, standing up from where he sat and shut off the TV. "It was bad enough with you wasted away by a pool for ten years, now you're wasting away secluded in this fucking apartment."

"Bite me!" Michael retorted, heading to his bedroom to change his shirt.

"Careful, Mikey, I just might do it if it gets you out of that fucking slump you're in," Trevor shouted from the living room area. Michael laughed as he dumped his dirty shirt on the floor and slipped on the clean one he had swiped from a drawer. "You need to get out, grab some fresh air, wander the streets of Los Santos and admire all the fake tits and ass out there."

Michael snorted, somewhat amused. "Yeah, last time I was 'wandering the streets of Los Santos', I got punched by some punk and picked up by a stranger," he informed Trevor.

"So, did he, like, molest you and this is you reacting to the trauma?" Trevor asked, taking a seat again as Michael returned to the living room.

"What? No!" Michael immediately answered, resumed his seat but faced Trevor instead of the blank TV screen. "It wasn't even a guy; it was a girl, you dickhead."

"And when was this?" Trevor questioned.

"I don't know, about a week or two ago," Michael supplied.

"No wonder you're suicidal. I'd be too if I went that long without getting some bounce to my boy," Trevor said with a sad shake of his head. Something had finally seemed interesting enough for his friend to supply more than short and clipped sentences. "So, was she hot? A hooker? Another stripper? Share details, man!"

"There was no 'bounce'," Michael shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "And no, she wasn't a hooker or a stripper, least she didn't say she was. She works over at the college."

"What, no sex?" Trevor asked. "You passed the perfect opportunity to play student-teacher with authenticity! What? Was she too old for you? 'Cause you know, if that's the case, then I wouldn't mind an introduction."

"Old? If anything, I was at least 10 years older than her," Michael refuted. "I don't even know if she's a teacher, for God's sake."

"Then what the fuck did you both do?" Trevor said, obvious impatience coloring his voice. "Who in their fucking right mind brings a stranger home and doesn't jump him? Unless she's a nun, but we've established she's not. Was her house filled with like crucifixes and rings of garlic?"

Michael shook his head, feeling the shame and regret he had managed to forget come back. "No, she was nice, you know. My clothes were clean, she fed me dinner, and let me sleep the booze off," he told him. "If anything, I was the dick to her."

"Why?" Trevor asked, confused. "You should've been grateful, motherfucker. If there's anything I can't stand, is a prick who disrespects women!"

"I was in a bad place, all right?" Michael countered. "I didn't mean to explode on her like that! But I can't help getting pissed when I think of Amanda and my fucked up life!"

"Fuck Amanda!" Trevor shouted, rising again from his seat. "I still don't understand why you let her handle you like a fucking toy! Fuck her and whatever twit she's screwing!"

"You and me both," Michael sighed, running his hands tiredly through his face. "You and me both." He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the couch, listening to Trevor pace around erratically. Trevor's footsteps died down, but the sound of his phone dialing someone had Michael looking at him warily.

"Hey, Frank!" Trevor spoke to the speakerphone. "Got any plans tonight? Well, fuck that and let's have a boy's trip!"

"You piece of shit!" Michael groaned, immediately aware of Trevor's plans.

"Yea…Michael and I will meet you at the club. Ten o' clock, roger that!" Trevor said and ended the call.

"You're a fucking prick," Michael glared at him.

" _You_ should be on your knees thanking me for doing this for you, pork chop," Trevor said defiantly.

"Ah, fuck you," Michael dismissed him, standing up. "Whatever, I'm gonna get that shut eye until I have to drag my ass with you." Before he could take five steps, Trevor had grabbed him into a headlock and was dragging him towards the entrance of the apartment.

"Eh, eh, eh! No way, amigo. We are going to visit some shops, get you all dressed up," Trevor said.

"Trevor!" Michael complained to no avail.

* * *

Michael really wished that his sense of smell wasn't as sharp as ever. The smell of Trevor's body odor would just not leave his nostrils as both drove around. He had often liked the smell of clothes fresh from the store, but even wearing them made no dent. Whatever gratitude he felt towards his friend for lifting his spirit (yes, clean clothing did improve his mood drastically) was severely overshadowed by annoyance. "Why the fuck did you have to put me on a headlock?" Michael complained for the umpteenth time.

"I wasn't going to risk carrying you again, man" Trevor easily answered.

"Then why the fuck did I have to buy new clothes?" he demanded, getting into Trevor's truck.

"Because I know you, you rich fuck," Trevor said. "If you want to get any bounce tonight, you gotta be presentable, man. You need all the help you can get. "

"You're dressing me for strippers? Wonderful," Michael sarcastically laughed. "Well, what about you? You smell worse than carrion sitting under the sun for days."

"I don't need any of that stuff because I have something called personality and charisma, Mikey," Trevor said, tapping his fingers as he waited for a red light to change colors. At any other time, he would have run it, but there was no hurry so Trevor was content to wait. The day was bright, but nothing his aviators couldn't handle. "I mean, if it had been me with that girl that picked you up, whoa! I would have shown my gratitude all night long."

"Ah, she's not your type," Michael said, remembering Alice Mertes and her simple style of clothing. He had thought about returning to see her and apologizing, but he'd forgotten where she lived. There were many apartment buildings in Los Santos. His mind foggy with alcohol hadn't supplied him the information that he needed in order to make things right. "Besides, what would you know? You weren't there." Trevor nodded, acknowledging the fact.

"Still, I'd like to meet this girl who swooped in like an angel and saved your sorry ass," Trevor said. "I want to ask her if she's lesbian and that's why she didn't fuck you." Michael said nothing, preferring to stare at the pedestrians and shops they were passing by. Since Trevor's truck was open to the elements, he could make out bits and pieces of conversations. He laughed at some of the absurdities that people spoke about. Typical Los Santos. "What should we do until tonight to pass the time?" Trevor asked Michael but the latter wasn't paying him any attention.

Instead, Michael was looking intently at some point they were getting close by. He wasn't sure what, but there was surprise and doubt written all over Michael's face. Trevor tried to see what it was, but there was only a woman standing on the outside of a Bean Machine with a little boy. The boy must have been saying something because she was smiling and laughing at something neither could hear. She wasn't all bad, Trevor thought, but different to the women Michael often preferred. Her skirt hinted at _some_ ass but her chest was nothing that would have heads turning twice.

"Fuck, stop the truck!" Michael said, turning to Trevor when he kept on driving. Trevor complied, receiving angry protests from the vehicles behind him. Before Trevor could inquire any further, Michael had gotten off his truck and was running to the woman and boy he had seen. He considered driving around the corner, or parking nearby, but since the prick got off without so much as a 'see you later', he could get a cab or walk back to the apartment. "Hey!" Michael called out and was relieved when it was Alice who turned at the sound of his voice. "Alice!" God, he really needed to start working out if such a small run had him slightly out of breath.

Alice waited patiently, obviously surprised. When Michael De Santa had stormed out of her apartment, she had been sure that that had been the last time she was ever going to see him. "Michael?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Michael apologized. He hadn't thought about it, but it would have made _him_ nervous to see a near-complete stranger charging right at him.

"No, no," she assured. "I'm just waiting for my sister to pick up my son." Michael looked down at the boy who clung to his mother's hand and waited quietly. There was no questioning his relationship to her; the boy looked so much like his mother, even had the same sweet patience she had. "Kaleb, this is Mr. Michael De Santa, won't you say hi?" Alice said to him. The boy looked up at him and extended his hand.

"Hello, Mr. De Santa," he spoke in a quiet but clear voice. "It is nice to meet you." Michael took his tiny hand and shook it as gently as he could.

"Likewise, buddy," Michael nodded. "How old are you?" The kid look so small, but he was obviously sharp. Kaleb smiled and held up his hand, showing all his fingers. "Five, huh? That's, uh, great."

"Was there anything we could help you with?" Alice asked, stroking her son's soft hair.

"Alice!" Both turned and saw a woman pull up in a silver car. Unlike Alice, her sister was flashier and looked to be older. The woman waved at Michael, politely acknowledging his presence.

"Would you give me a minute, Mr. De Santa?" Alice asked.

"Yeah, of course," Michael nodded, gesturing for her to go on.

"'Bye Mr. De Santa," Kaleb waved as his mother led him away. Michael waved back, remembering when Jimmy and Tracey had been that age. He wished that he hadn't taken those days for granted. Perhaps, if he had known, he wouldn't have been such an ass and tried harder. From the little he was seeing, as Kaleb hugged his mother tightly by the neck and pecked her cheek before climbing onto his aunt's car, Michael could sense that the kid was very much loved. With all the sincerity he had, Michael hoped that the kid would love his mother as much as he did at the present. Alice waved them good bye until the silver car turned a corner out of sight.

"I'm sorry," Alice said, walking over to him. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting for long."

"Not at all," Michael said. "Listen, uh…" He trailed away, unsure of what to say. The jingles of bells ringing caught his attention as a couple of boys walked out of the Bean Machine with cups in hand. "Want some coffee?" He kinda hoped she would accept his offer because Michael found himself wanting some.

"Oh, um, yes, that'd be nice," she agreed, walking to the court of the coffee shop and taking a seat by a table that Michael gestured to.

"So, what's your poison?" he asked her.

"Regular latte," she quickly answered, smiling hesitantly at him. Michael nodded and headed into the shop. Alice wondered what was on Michael's mind. He had left so angry that day. If she were to be honest, she had felt horrible and had wanted the opportunity to apologize for whatever she had done to wrong him. The least she could do was hear out what he had to say. As Alice watched the traffic passing by the shop and waited for Michael to return, she felt tranquil enough that he seemed to not be angry with her anymore.

"Here ya go," Michael said, took opposite her. If he were honest, he had chosen this spot because the area behind him reminded him of the time he had smashed a laptop on the yoga prick for Amanda's sake. Alice thanked him, blowing into the cup to cool off its contents a little. "I honestly didn't think I was going to run into you like this."

Alice chuckled. "I was sure I was never going to see after you left my apartment," she commented.

"Right, about that," Michael began. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for being such an asshole and blowing up on you like that."

"No, Michael," Alice protested, shaking her head to emphasize her point. Michael noticed she was slightly wringing her hands on her lap and smoothing her brown skirt somewhat anxiously. "There is no need to apologize. Of course, I was hoping myself that you would accept _my_ apology for what I did to upset you."

"It wasn't you, Alice, that got me all wound up," Michael clarified taking a sip of his own drink. Fuck, he really was a bastard for making her worry over something that was beyond her control. "I was already like that to begin with. You don't have anything to be sorry for."

Alice nodded, accepting what he said. She was glad he had taken time out of his day to put her mind at ease. "I hope you're doing well," she said with obvious honesty that Michael nodded his head in agreement, if only to set her mind at ease.

"I'm getting by," he told her, there was no need to tell Alice his crappy life story. Just then, her phone beeped from the red purse she had strapped across her shoulder.

She grabbed it, quickly looking at the screen before setting back, facedown, on the table they were sharing. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "That was just my sister letting me know that they arrived safe at my father's house."

"Meeting up later, huh?" Michael assumed.

"No," she sighed, running a hand awkwardly through her dark locks. "My son is staying with my father for the weekend."

"Busy weekend?" Michael asked, slightly flinching as a car went by loud enough to hurt his hearing. "Fucking prick."

Alice chuckled, seeming to look him up and down from where she sat. "No more than you, I suppose," she said with a smile. When he had first approached her, Alice had not instantly recognized him. He looked very different from the way he was when she found him in the rain. Michael followed her gaze, remembering that he was wearing new and clean clothing. At least his nose's sacrifice hadn't been for anything.

"My friends are dragging me out tonight," he admitted, rolling his eyes.

"That's nice of them," Alice said, taking a rather long drink from her cup.

"I don't know," Michael sighed. "Strippers and alcohol haven't exactly done wonders for me." Alice snorted, hastily grabbing a napkin and coughing into it. Michael couldn't help but laugh at the red that had appeared on the apples of her cheeks.

"Oh, God," Alice groaned, smiling hugely. "I think, if I were in your position, I'd agree, Michael."

"Nice to know I'm not the only one who thinks so," he said.

"I do hope that you'll be safe and have much fun," Alice said. "Will you be driving to the club?"

"Not sure, depends on what my friend, T, decides to do," Michael shrugged. "Though I'm definitely not staying at the Unicorn."

"Unicorn?" she echoed.

"The club," Michael answered. "Or rather, the Vanilla Unicorn."

Alice reached into her purse, searching for something, before withdrawing a small notepad and a pen. She quickly wrote something on it before ripping half the page and passing it to him. Michael looked at it, seeing her name and number written neatly across the paper in small and neat handwriting. "If you should ever be in need of help," she said to the question she could see in his eyes. "I would rather you call me in the middle of the night than have you driving while intoxicated or walking the streets."

Michael nodded, pocketing the paper carefully in his wallet. "Thanks," he nodded. "I really appreciate this. Just… don't be bringing anymore strangers into your house, Alice. I was serious about that."

Alice smiled bashfully, "Don't worry, Michael, I've learned my lesson." Michael's phone rang in the tone he recognized to be a text message. He looked at it and saw it was from Lester asking him a favor.

"Ah, I'd hate to bail, but a friend of mine just contacted me, said he needed help with something," Michael said.

"No, it's no problem," Alice assured him. "I meant to visit the shopping district by El Perro, anyways." Both stood up, throwing their empty cups and napkins away. Alice looked around, but saw only her dark green car parked a little a ways. She had turned around to ask Michael something when she noticed he had headed back inside the shop and was waiting before the counter. She was surprised to see him holding another cup in his hands when he came out again.

"It's for my friend," Michael said, "Trevor _loves_ skinny lattes, figured I'd show him my thanks for tonight."

"Would you like me to give you a ride?" she offered, gesturing to her vehicle.

"Nah, I'll just take a cab," Michael declined. Raising his arm to a passing taxi. The cab came to a stop beside them.

Alice smiled at him before extending her arm out to him. "It was nice seeing you. Michael," she told him. "And thank you for the coffee."

"My pleasure," Michael said, shaking her hand. "You be safe out there and no more strangers, you hear?" Alice smiled one more time before giving him a small wave and headed to her car. By the time Michael had gotten into the cab and was speeding away, Alice was already inside her car, but she had yet to pull into traffic. As the cab passed her car, he noticed she was on her phone. Even the dark tint of the glass could not entirely hide the look of mixed aggravation and exhaustion that marred her usual gentle features.

* * *

 **Like I said before, this was a very calm and chill chapter. I'm not sure when things will 'heat up', but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I'd appreciate a review on how I'm doing, any suggestions, or the like. If you review me, I'll get back to you, and, if you're a guest like dear Anon, I'll respond within the next chapter. Hopefully, I'm not doing too bad.**

 **Until next time,**

 **\- Dea Lux**


	3. Animals and Second Chances

**Thank you to those of you who have reviewed, and added this story to your favorites/follows. Shit, I just realized it's been a month since I updated, but I hope that you'll be happy with this newest chapter. Things are going to pick up a smidge in this chapter, so I hope everyone will enjoy that.**

 **Alright, now to respond to the awesome people that have left reviews:**

 **Lou: I haven't seen many stories that have Michael interacting with someone - or anyone - that has little or nothing to do with the crime world. Thus, that was the basis that brought Alice forth. I'm also a believer of second chances and that's what I'm trying to attempt. I've noticed that reviews are not the norm, and I try not to let it deter me. Though it makes my day when I do receive one.**

 **Guest: I'm so glad you love it! I'll try my best to keep posting material you'll continue to love.**

 **Reviewer: I love that you like it. I'm sorry I took a while to update, but I hope that this chapter makes you happy. Not to worry, i won't let this fic die.**

 **Again, I do not own anything from the GTA universe; I wish I did, but I don't. Only the OCs are mine, besides the plot of this story.**

* * *

Michael drummed his fingers against his leg as he waited in the seat next to Tracey. There was impatience growing in his insides as they were kept waiting, though he attempted to keep it at bay by looking around the university's interior. The corridor they were in was somewhat narrow with doors lining it on either side at irregular intervals. In between these intervals, chairs made of a coarse purple fabric lined the walls, all the same. The floor was tiled in two shades of black and white while the walls were painted a blue-green color. Michael wondered if all the colleges looked the same or not. The smell of commercial cleaning agents hung heavy in the air, he noted. Flyers and posts filled bulletins that hung on the walls, reminders of events, deadlines, and notices Michael had no clue about. With a sigh, Michael leaned as far back as he could in the chair and turned to Tracey. "Why we here again?" he asked her.

Tracey fidgeted with her hands and the strap of the book bag she had with her, doing her best not to look at her father. "'Cuz the school wants to kick me out," she answered. Tracey was surprised her dad had showed up at all. They had spoken only a couple of times ever since the divorce and she hadn't been the best of daughters even before her parents' divorce.

"Why?" Michael asked, turning to look at her with evident surprise. Everyone had been astonished when she had been accepted into the college, more so when she stayed and was trying hard to get her degree in Dance, and she had obviously toned down her destructive behaviors. Michael wasn't a great father, but he had been keeping tabs on his children via their Lifeinvader pages, so he was aware that Tracey cared very much for her schooling to do anything to jeopardize her it.

Tracey sighed heavily, not wanting to admit the reason. "I had a sex web cam service a few years ago," she started, pausing when Michael groaned next to her. He kind of did not want to hear anymore, but Tracey went on. "So, somebody found a video, along with my Fame or Shame audition tape – the one you and Trevor crashed – and turned it to the school's administration."

"Ok, and why did the school need me?" Michael asked her, still wondering why he was there.

"Moral support?" Tracey answered hesitantly.

Michael looked at his daughter, feeling both frustration and sympathy for her. A part of him wanted to tell her how the past has an uncanny way of coming to bite one in the ass, but, by the look on her face, he could tell that she was well aware of the fact. "What'd your mother have to say?" he asked her. At this, Tracey scoffed with obvious anger and resentment.

"She doesn't know," she answered. "At first, she was all happy that I had made it into the school, but then, when I chose Dance as my major, Mom went all crazy. 'You could learn to dance for a fraction of the price in the city.' Yea, sure, Mom. I think she wanted me to be a lawyer or something." Michael looked at his daughter, wanting to do or say something to make her feel better but he didn't know what to say. "So, Pops, how come you didn't get all huffy when I chose to pursue Dance?" she asked him, turning serious again.

He took another moment to simply look at her, remembering when Tracey had been a very young girl. He could clearly see her as she had been then: small, skin a lot lighter, and hair the natural dark brown it was, and face alight with innocent happiness. She had always been a 'daddy's girl' and she'd known it. Things hadn't turned out very well in past years, but he had a feeling that maybe he could salvage his relationship with her. "I did what I did so you could have a better life, Trace," he answered honestly. "I wanted you to have the opportunities that I couldn't have. If Dance is your choice, then who the hell am I to question it?"

Tracey hadn't expected his answer to have her looking at him in a different light. Both settled into silence as they waited. Going with the warm feeling in her chest, Tracey leaned against his shoulder, smiling at him when he looked down at her. Michael took out his phone for something to do, and looked at a message that he hadn't noticed he'd received a couple of hours ago. It was a message from Alice who wished him a nice day. Since she had given him her number, Michael had taken the liberty to text her one night while he was bored and not wanting to drown himself in alcohol yet again. He hadn't expected her to answer, but she had. The conversation hadn't lasted very long, as she had to wake early the next day for work, but it had been enough to distract Michael from his misery. Since then, she sent him a text every day to greet him and ask how he was doing. "Ooh, is that a new girlfriend?" Tracey said, seeing nothing but a female name in the screen of his phone.

Michael laughed, putting the phone away. "Nah, she's just someone I know. Matter of fact, she works here at the college," he told her. Tracey pouted, sitting up straight in her chair.

"You know, I used to think you were a complete asshole," she suddenly said. Michael sighed, not wanting to hear how he had ruined her life and what a prick he was. "I blamed you for everything for a long time."

"Wait, used to as in you don't no more?" he asked her, leaning his weight on one forearm of the chair he sat in.

Tracey shrugged. "I don't think so," she admitted, though somewhat uncertain. "Mom always told me and Jimmy how you were a monster and that you were the cause of all that went bad. 'If your father hadn't cheated on me…If your dad hadn't done this, done that, yada, yada…' All of that really made me hate you, seriously. But when you guys split, everything was pretty much the same with Mom, except it was now my and Jimmy's fault. It made me realize that maybe you weren't the asshole I thought you were."

"Really?" he asked her, not sure of what else to say.

"Yea, and now Mom's the one with a midlife crisis, going from one rich old guy to another. It's really gross," Tracey said, watching closely her father's reaction. Some part of her expected him to burst out in fury and go on a rampage to beat or kill whoever her mother was screwing with, but Michael simply craned his neck from side to side in the usual habit he had. "Anyways, I don't want to get all sappy and shit, but what I was trying to say is thanks for coming Pops."

Michael hugged her briefly to his side, glad he had decided to come even though Tracey had all but been ambiguous as to why she needed him at the college. "Anything for my girl," he said. Both of them tensed when the silence that had surrounded them was broken by the sound of several feet approaching their direction. A file of men and women strode past them to enter a room close to them. A few, Michael noted, wore business suits and others were dressed in comfy-looking black clothing. Those, he reasoned, must be Tracey's dancing instructors. One of the suits approached him and extended his hand to Michael.

"Mr. De Santa?" the man asked. Michael took the hand that was offered to him. This was a man who had never done a hard day's labor in his life, Michael noted. His hands were perfectly smooth and callous-free. He also had an air of authority that didn't sit right with him, nor did he like the way that the man looked at him. Michael could guess why. The stubble in his chin had grown a little longer than usual and the same could be said of his hair. Michael had meant to go to a barber's but Tracey's call had changed his plans. Moreover, Michael wasn't wearing his usual three-piece suit, only the suit pants, a polo shirt, and skater shoes.

"Yea," Michael answered, standing to his full height so as to clarify that he was not one to be intimidated. If only the fool knew that he had more money than he could ever hope to spend in one lifetime.

"I'm Robert Hart, part of the university's board," Hart introduced then gestured to the door the rest of the suits had gone into. "Mr. De Santa, Tracey, this way." Tracey followed silently behind them, trying to remain inconspicuous though that was a failed effort. She hadn't outgrown her habit of wearing short skirts, boots, and revealing shirts. Michael had to admit, though, that she was showing a little less skin than usual; at the very least, she hadn't shown up with her favorite halter top, jean shorts, and white hat. Michael sat next to Tracey, barely registering the names of the other six people present in the large meeting room who sat around the large rectangular table as they were being introduced. Only one chair remained empty of the ten that were available. "We are awaiting one last person, Tracey's drawing instructor," Hart said. Michael only nodded in response, wishing that whoever it was would hurry up so that this could be over with.

"Wait, you're a Dance major and you're taking a drawing class?" Michael suddenly asked Tracey. With all the attention turned to her, and not in the usual way Tracey liked it to be, she squirmed uncomfortably.

"Ah, yeah," she answered. "I was curious, thought maybe it'd be fun and I could learn to draw so one day I could design my own clothing line or something." Michael wanted to laugh and would have if they were in different circumstances. Not that he doubted her, for all he knew she had all the talent in the world in that regard; it was her reasons that often amused and frustrated him to no end. Michael had the suspicion that one of the reasons she had decided to get her Dance major was to have another shot at Fame or Shame and possibly win.

"Good for you," Michael said instead, thinking that what Tracey needed the most was support. The door opened and Michael thanked his lucky stars when he saw Alice walk in the room.

"Excuse my tardiness," she said, clearly out of breath, and holding a large drawing pad in her hands. Her light green eyes went round with surprise and recognition when they noticed him sitting next to Tracey. "Michael?"

"Hello, Alice," he returned her greeting as she took the last empty chair that happened to be next to him and set the large sketchpad on the table before them. She smiled at him, the same sweet smile Michael remember her wearing in both occasions they'd met. Her small hand shook his, before she turned her attention to Tracey and the rest of the room.

"You know Ms. Mertes?" Tracey asked, unable to believe such a thing could happen. They both ran in different circles, after all.

"We, uh, met twice before," Michael answered, not really wanting to bring up the way he'd been such an asshole to Alice when her support was really needed in order for Tracey not to be kicked out of the school.

"Ms. Mertes, care to explain the situation?" the suit asked Alice in the same voice he had tried to intimidate Michael with. He had fully expected Alice to shrink away as she had done when he'd lost his temper. Instead, he saw Alice stiffen and fix the man with a cold look.

"I helped out Mr. De Santa when he was stranded in the rain, and one more time for coffee," Alice answered. "That is all."

"Come on, Robert," another of the suits sighed, the school's dean, if Michael remembered correctly. "We have enough in our hands without speculating at a relationship between Alice and Mr. De Santa that may or not exist."

"Sam," Alice interjected, looking at the second suit who had spoken. "There is nothing to speculate about." Michael felt bad for putting Alice in a bad position by simply being there and having met her twice before, though he couldn't bring himself to regret meeting her. Alice was one of the few, if not the only one, that didn't blame him for all the wrongs in their life.

"Yea, pal," he said to them. "She was only giving me a hand, and I was thanking her."

"Very well," Hart nodded. "I am simply making sure that there is no conflict of interests. Alright, we all know why we're here and I'm here to make sure that the integrity of this school is not marred by the indiscretions of one. Tracey, got anything to say?" At this, all eyes turned to Tracey who had yet to speak.

"I uh," she tried, but it felt like her tongue was in knots. What was she supposed to say anyways? "I don't want to be kicked out."

"Tracey, you have to understand that as a student, you represent USLA," Hart said. "And the nature of the videos is not appropriate for such an esteemed university." Tracey nodded, unsure of what to say in her defense, or even if she should say anything.

"Oh, come on, those happened years ago," Michael defended Tracey.

"Mr. De Santa, nothing nowadays vanishes entirely," the suit Alice called Sam spoke up. "The Internet keeps everything for everyone to see." Michael couldn't find anything in his mind to retaliate that and had a feeling of déjà vu because Lester had said something similar to him.

"I agree with Mr. De Santa," Alice said, adding her grain of sand into the mix. "The videos should not be grounds for the expulsion of Tracey." Murmurs began to spread across the table, most of those looking at Alice like she was crazy. Hart was looking at Alice with a very serious look, and Alice simply looked right back at him with cold politeness.

"You are ok with the nature of the videos?" he asked her and all the quiet murmuring ceased.

"Alice," Sam said, clearly warning her that she was on shaky grounds. Tracey wished that she was anywhere but in the chair that was making her ass hurt. If she had known years back that she'd be in such position, then Tracey wouldn't have behaved in such slutty ways. What was more, Tracey had the feeling that Ms. Mertes could potentially be fired from her job because she was standing up for her. At first, when the semester had started, Tracey had rolled her eyes at her instructor's advice of telling them to relax and let their creativity flow from their brain and into their fingers. Disappointment had filled Tracey immensely when she realized that she was not going to learn to draw what she wanted to learn. But her instructor had a way of making her class fun, even therapeutic, by playing music her students requested. Tracey had found it so calming to lose herself in her attempts at drawing still-life, encouraged by the honest praise Alice gave her students. Thus she had grown to like her very much.

"I am not saying that I agree or disagree," Alice answered, voice even. Michael was very surprised at her calm demeanor, quite the contrast with the nervous and shy woman he had met before, but he guessed that she was in her element. Just the way Michael was a great thief but made a shit of his life, Alice was confident at the university, but not so much outside of it. "What I am saying is that Tracey is not the same person that she was a few years ago."

"I'm trying really hard," Tracey mumbled. "I just really want to continue to dance."

"She has shown extraordinary talent and progress," Alice added, placing her hands on the sketchpad. "Tracey, this is yours. Can I show them your work?"

Tracey seemed like she really wanted to say no, but Michael nudged her discreetly for her to agree. "Ok," she relented. Alice opened it up and laid the drawings inside for everyone to see. Michael was very surprised it had been Tracey who had done them, but any doubts he might have had vanished when he noticed Tracey growing red in the face and her girly initials on each drawing.

"As you can see, she improves with each drawing," Alice said, looking at each drawing with fond eyes. "It has been my pleasure to witness such talent developing." Everyone but Hart took interest in what was laid before them, though all showed mixed emotions. "And from what I hear from Tracey, she was improved very much in her major, too." She looked at those who were dressed all in black who nodded uncomfortably.

"Yes, Tracey came to us with no technique or form," a man answered, exchanging looks with his colleagues who nodded in agreement.

"It has been quite the journey," another agreed.

"She has shown admirable dedication," a third agreed. "I do believe it would be a shame to see her go."

Hart looked at them all, Tracey, Michael, and Alice the longest. "Her talent and dedication was never the one in question," he countered.

"You really want to throw her out, don't you?" Michael asked, patience going out the window.

"Dad," Tracey pleaded him, taking a hold of his arm just in case Michael decided that everyone had talked enough. Tension in the room had reached an all-time high and Tracey felt her chances of staying at the university were diminishing by the second.

"My feelings have nothing to with the matter, Mr. De Santa," Hart refuted.

"Yea, and I'm gonna burn down my boss's movie studio." Michael said with unmistakable sarcasm.

The room felt silent, though Michael noticed the different manner in which he was regarded. He was no longer the retired old fart they had thought he was. "Mr. Hart," Alice broke the silence. "Tracey has tried very hard at this school; she has come a long way. Doesn't she deserve a second chance now that she is trying to make her life right?" Hart looked back at Alice and everyone else in the room. For the first time, they saw him wavering in his stance. "I know for a fact many of us in this room weren't saints in their youth, but they stand now as respectable members of society."

Reluctant nods went around the room, some moving uncomfortably at having their past brought up. "Robert," Sam began. "I'm sure Tracey won't ever do anything to tarnish the reputation of our school."

"I won't! I promise!" Tracey readily agreed.

"I'll make sure she doesn't," Michael promised.

"What do you say, Rob?" Sam asked, looking hopefully at his companion.

Hart looked around the room, seeing that everyone had been swayed. "Alright, Tracey, you can stay," he sighed. "But, nothing of this sort is to be repeated ever again." The tension in the room visibly broke and everyone relaxed in their chairs. Alice smiled, obviously pleased, and began carefully gathering Tracey's drawings to place them back in the sketchpad.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Tracey squealed, hugging Michael hard in her excitement. Michael laughed, relishing the sound of his daughter's happiness.

"Well, I do believe this concludes our meeting, ladies and gentlemen," Hart said, standing from his chair and waiting for a few of his colleagues before departing. The rest filed out until and it was Michael, Tracey, and Alice who were the last ones to leave.

"Hey, Alice, thanks a lot," Michael said to her.

"Yes, thank you, thank you," Tracey squealed again, giving her teacher a hug, too. Alice exclaimed in surprise, but returned the embrace.

"It was my pleasure to be able to have helped out," Alice told them, then handed Tracey the large sketchpad. "Tracey, I'll see you in class; Michael, it was good seeing you again." With a last wave, she bid them goodbye and walked away. Michael couldn't help but watch her as she did, noticing how her black skinny jeans accentuated her behind and how the white button down she wore hugged her slim waist.

"You know, at any other time, I'd have said it was really gross you're checking out my drawing instructor, but I'm really happy right now," Tracey teased him, enjoying the way her dad's face turned red with embarrassment.

"Jesus, no! I wasn't checking her out," Michael lied, following Tracey on her way out of the university's building.

"Sure, Pop," she laughed. When they stepped out of the elevator and onto the ground floor, both of them noticed that night had fallen. "Wow, we took like a really long time in there."

"Yeah, no kidding," Michael agreed, feeling his back ache from the shitty chairs they'd been sitting in. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car. Never know when some psycho might creep up on you."

"What about you, Dad? Where's your car?" Tracey asked, walking in the direction of her yellow Issi.

"Ah, I parked over there," Michael said, pointing farther ahead from where they were. That section was somewhat darker, he noted.

"Ok, here we are," Tracey said, unlocking her car and climbing in. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yea?"

"Thanks for today," she said with a lot of sincerity.

"Anytime," Michael told her making her smile. It had been a long time since Tracey had been around him without getting angry once. "You go ahead and catch some shut eye," Michael nodded, then smiled at her. "Got school tomorrow, right?"

"That's right!" Tracey laughed, her former giddiness returning. "Ok, daddy! I'll see you later!" Michael watched her go and felt a huge heaviness lift from his shoulders he hadn't been aware he was carrying. Things weren't quite fixed, but, like Jimmy had once said, it was the first step in the direction of okay. He felt that he could work with that. Michael walked slowly to his car, ready to call it a day while it could end on a good note for a change. He just hoped that Trevor wouldn't drop by for some more 'cheering up'.

The night had a really nice breeze so Michael decided that he'd drive with the windows down. He had just sat in the driver's seat and had closed the door when the sound of heated voices reached his ears. Curious, he turned in his seat and saw the now familiar figure of Alice headed for the Cheval that was a few feet away from his car. The orange glow from the lamppost allowed him to see the exasperation clearly visible in her usually gentle features. She was walking pretty fast, but not fast enough to out walk the man that was following her. Before she could open the door to her silver car, the man forced it shut and leaned into it so Alice couldn't open it. She was more than annoyed with him, not really talking to him, but listening to whatever he was telling her. One of her hands ran through her loose hair in an obvious gesture of impatience. Michael saw her shake her head, say something, and then attempt to move the source of her annoyance as gently as she could without causing offense. However, whoever had followed her turned so that she was backed up against the door to her car. Her anger had vanished to be replaced by nervousness. He leaned close to her, speaking in displeasure as he gave her a look over that gave Michael a bad feeling.

Michael stepped out of his car, deciding to check if Alice needed any help. He owed her after all for helping Tracey out. "Larry, please, I have a little boy waiting for me at home," he heard her say.

"Look, Alice, all I want is a chance to take you somewhere nice," he ignored her.

"And I told you, I can't," Alice refused. "Now, please let me go." She no longer was the confident woman that he had seen in the meeting.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he said, leaning even closer. Michael's vision turned red with fury when Larry, or whatever the fuck his name was, placed a hand on her shoulder and trailed his fingers down and stopped at the hollow of her throat. Alice's eyes went round in fear; tears threatened to obscure her vision. Her mind was telling her to yell for help, but her mouth had gone dry. She knew before he did that he was going to try to kiss her; so when he dipped his mouth to hers, Alice moved her face away. His hand entangled in her hair to hold her in place as he tried again, his other hand roamed over her body. A cry of pain escaped her lips from where his hand pulled at her hair.

"You sick fuck!" Michael roared, taking them both by surprise. Before Larry could react, Michael grabbed one of his treacherous hands and twisted his wrist until the bastard was on his knees yelping in pain. With his other free hand, Michael punched him in the nose and was very satisfied to hear a crunch. Larry yelled as his nose broke, but immediately went to quell the blood that was streaming down to his chin. "Get lost you slimy fuck before I break more than your face!" Not waiting to be told twice, Larry took off, stumbling as tears blurred his vision. Michael watched him until he was gone from their sight before turning to see if Alice was ok. Shock was the only thing he could discern in her otherwise blank gaze, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. "Alice?" he softly tried getting her to focus on him.

"Michael?" she croaked, seeming to come out of a reverie. A sob broke from her throat and tears flooded out. Michael felt alarmed when she slightly wavered where she stood, and placed his arms around her in case her strength gave out. Gently, he pried the keys to her car from her fingers and placed them on his pocket. She held onto him as her heart began to settle from the rapid pace it had been beating and a modicum of reason returned to her. Knowing she'd be in no state to drive home, Michael led her from her vehicle to his car and ushered her in the passenger seat before climbing back in and heading out of the campus' grounds. A big part of him wanted to chase the motherfucker and break every bone in his body, but Alice needed him more than his bloodlust needed to be sated. She wasn't crying as hard as she had been, but her face was frighteningly pale.

Alice focused on trying to get her breathing to calm, not quite aware that he was driving or that he had stopped somewhere before driving again. She kept telling herself that it was over and that she was safe. Michael had come to her rescue. Larry was gone. Larry was gone. She wasn't hurt, just very scared. Michael was driving her home. Larry couldn't hurt her while she was with Michael. Little by little, Alice began to focus on the small details around her. His cologne filled the car and she recognized it from when she had carried him to her apartment. Music was softly playing, volume so low that it was nothing but background noise. "Here, Alice, drink this." She was slightly startled when Michael handed her a cup with a lid and a straw from Burger Shot. "I don't want you to pass out. Trust me, it'll make you feel better." Alice nodded, taking a long sip of the cold soda.

Michael stopped the car at the parking lot of a gas station, waiting for her to come back to all her senses. It took her a few more minutes, but she eventually turned to look at him. "I'm sorry, Michael," she said, not quite what he was expecting to hear.

"For what?" he asked her, watching people coming in and out of the station's store. Many of them carried packs of beer, making him want to get some for himself, but he didn't want to leave the distraught woman sitting beside him.

"For getting involved," she answered. "But I'm also very thankful that you did, so thank you so much."

"Don't mention it," he told her, urging her to drink more with his hands. "Anyways, there's no way I could've just sat back and not do anything."

"I never would have expected Larry to do something like that," Alice said, choking back a sob as fear threatened to take hold of her again. "He'd been pestering me for a long time for a date, but I kept telling him no."

"Wow, he was that persistent?" he asked her.

"I want to say 'you have no idea', but I don't feel that it fits this situation," she said, carefully placing the cup in the cup holder when she noticed her hands were shaking.

"Here," Michael handed her some fries he took from a brown paper bag. Thank God for fast food restaurants. . Alice took them with a word of gratitude and began to slowly chew on a fry. "He won't try anything anymore when the school gets wind of this."

"No!" she shook her head vigorously. "I don't want this to get any bigger than it already is."

"What?" Michael said. "You're kidding, right, Alice?" When she didn't respond and only stared at the food in her lap, Michael felt himself getting furious again. "You can't not tell the school about it!"

"I just want to forget about it, Michael," she whispered.

Michael exhaled loudly, trying not to lose his temper as he had done on their first meeting. She'd been scared shitless enough as it was for one night. But the image of her scared eyes and the creep's hands on her made him regret only breaking the fuck's nose. His insides writhed at the thought of what could have happened if he hadn't been there. "You've got to be fucking with me," he objected. "What if he tried something again?"

"He won't," she said. Michael groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please, Michael, don't say anything. I won't let myself be alone with him again." Michael looked at her pleading gaze, settling down his frustration.

"I owe ya for today," he told her, sighing heavily. "It don't sit right with me, but I won't say a thing." She visibly relaxed, taking another drink from the cup.

"Thank you, Michael," she breathed, giving his hand a quick squeeze to convey the enormous appreciation she felt.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, relieved to see the color had returned to her skin, but concerned at how cold her hand felt.

"Better," she answered, giving him a small smile, and popping another fry in her mouth.

"Ready to go home?" he asked her.

"Please, Kaleb must be wondering what is holding me up," she nodded.

"Where to?" he asked her, putting his car in reverse and then heading into the night's traffic.

"It's the apartment building in Cougar Avenue," Alice answered, rubbing her hands on her arms in an attempt to warm herself.

"You sure you're ok?" he asked her, turning on the heater of his car.

She looked at him appreciatively and placed her hands in front of a vent. "I've been better," she said honestly. "I just need to go home and look after my son."

"Where is he? Do I need to make a side stop to pick him up?" he asked her. It was somewhat late and the kid was too young to be left on his own.

"No, thank you," she replied. "My neighbor looks after him in the days that I come late from work." Both of them fell into comfortable silence, deep in their thoughts. Michael wanted to make sure that the asshole wouldn't even think about getting near her again, but Alice seemed adamant about not reporting him to the authorities. Then again, taking care of nuisances was in his line of work. Michael grinned to himself, formulating quickly a plan of execution. All he had to do once he dropped Alice off was to give his buddy Lester a call. "That's the one." Michael parked smoothly by the curb of the sidewalk, and looked up at the building.

"A'ight, here we are," he said. Alice nodded, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. When she faced him, the trace of a smile graced her lips.

"I really want to express how much I appreciate what you've done tonight," she said, "but I'm not sure how to do it. It seems that a simple 'thank you' isn't good enough."

"I told you, no problem. I'm just glad that I was able to give ya a hand, so don't worry about it," he assured her.

"Ok," she agreed with a small smile and stepped out, softly closing the door. Michael lowered the window, causing her to turn around and look back at him.

"Listen, don't you worry about him, alright?" he said. "After tonight, I'm sure he won't come close to you ever again."

"I won't," she said, giving him a small wave. "Goodnight, Michael."

* * *

"Why the fuck are we here?" Trevor groaned, bored out of his mind as he and Michael waited in his car.

"Don't start," Michael snapped, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel before him. "You're the one who wanted to come along." Fucking Trevor just had to show up.

"I thought we were going to have some fun," Trevor said, leaning his elbow on the window ledge of the car and looking out into the middle class neighborhood they were in. "I mean, you make a call to Lester the Molester for an address and then head out again. It aroused my curiosity, but now I'm bored out of my fucking mind."

"Yea, so?" Michael asked, watching closely at each car that passed by.

"So why the hell are we here?" Trevor asked again. Michael was hunting for something, but exactly still eluded him. "Who are we here to clip and why."

Michael sighed. It'd be easier to tell Trevor what he wanted rather than have him pester him for however long this took. "Alright, you remember the girl that helped me out some time ago?" Michael began.

"Yea, the one who didn't suck your flaccid boy," Trevor nodded.

"Fuck you," Michael growled before continuing. "Get this, Tracey gives me a call, said she needed me at the college today, so I go. Turns out, the school wanted to kick her out because of some videos, and, then, in walks the girl, Alice."

"Is there a point to this?" Trevor yawned causing Michael to brim with irritation.

"If you shut the fuck up, there would be," Michael scolded, waiting for Trevor to say something else.

"Jesus, you're a touchy motherfucker," Trevor exclaimed, but gestured with his hands for Michael to continue.

"And you're psychopath, but, hey, who's keeping score?" Michael countered. "Long story short, she helps Tracey out, we're leaving, when all of a sudden some creep starts feeling her up in the parking lot against her will. I helped her out, but I'm just gonna make sure the prick leaves her alone."

"Fucking shit," Trevor agrees. "All right then, I'll be happy to give you a hand icing this asshole."

"No, no, no," Michael shakes his head. "I'm just here to, uh, pound some sense into this bastard."

Trevor rolled his eyes, feeling the boredom coming back again now that he knew what they, or he, was there to do. "But why are we here, Mike?" Trevor asked, feeling like he was missing a piece to the puzzle. "Now that you were the knight in shining armor, did she show her gratitude by giving you some bounce?"

"You're a fucking animal. No, she was too messed up afterwards. Could barely speak for a while. I'm sure the thought hadn't even crossed her mind." Michael said, recalling how her small frame had shaken with her sobs. "I'm just making sure no one fucks with her."

"So, if she hadn't been messed up and the thought had crossed her mind, you would have had her be on the end of your boy," Trevor said.

"No!" Michael snapped, then backpedaled as his mind's eye brought forth her lovely figure. "Yea, I wouldn't have said 'no' if she'd offered."

"Now who's the fucking animal, you sick shit," Trevor called out, laughing at the glare Michael sent his way. "Though now I kinda want to meet her and see what's so special about her. You had Franklin drop her car off at her place, right?"

"Hell, no, T," Michael immediately turned to him. "You leave her alone. Alice's got to have enough going on without being scared to death with a meth-head stalking the apartment she and her son lives in."

"Ah, you no fun ass," Trevor bemoaned.

"Shut up, I think that's the asswipe," Michael said, watching as a house opposite them being approached by a vehicle. Both waited while the driver exited the vehicle. Even with the dim light from the street lights, they could see the white bandage that covered the person's nose. "Alright, you wait here. This won't take long." Michael exited his car, loosening the muscles in his arms. A part of him was very much looking forward to what was going to happen next.

The fucker, Larry, had yet to notice him, and was muttering angrily as he gathered stuff from his car. Michael waited patiently as Larry dug for his keys and unlocked his door. Before the door closed completely, Michael kicked it so that it slammed right back into Larry. Making sure that no one had been alerted to his intrusion, Michael closed the door behind him and looked coldly down at the worm groveling before him. For such a fucking douche, he had a nice-looking home, Michael noted.

"What the fuck?" Larry gasped, as he picked himself up from the floor. Vindictive satisfaction flooded through Michael's system as the prick recognized him and began to tremble. "You! What do you want? Just leave me alone."

"Yea, and did you leave Alice alone after she told you to get lost?" Michael asked, voice low and dangerous. He rolled his shoulders and neck, slowly closing the distance between the two.

"You should leave!" Larry gasped, stepping back. "I have family and they'll call the cops on your ass!"

"Bull-fucking-shit," Michael said, quickly pinning Larry against a wall and taking hold of him by the collar of his blood-stained shirt. "I _know_ that you don't have anyone, fucking turd."

"Did that bitch put you up to this?" Larry growled, trying to get Michael to let him go. "Or are you doing this because she's spread her legs for you?" Red tinged Michael's vision again as his anger resurfaced.

"You don't talk about Alice that way, asshole!" he roared, slamming his fist into Larry's abdomen twice before letting go. The latter crumpled to the floor, gasping for the air that had been knocked out of him.

"Oh, she must be real good," Larry laughed amidst the pain. Michael responded by bringing his knee to his face followed by a series of kicks to the ribs. Blood began to flow from underneath the bandages on Larry's face.

"You don't know when to shut the fuck up, do you?" he snarled. "Listen, I told my buddy that I wasn't gonna kill you, but you're beginning to change my mind."

Larry began to stand up again, then spat in Michael's face. "I've known assholes like you. You don't have the balls for it," he snorted.

"Is that right?" Michael asked, grabbing him by his short hair, and pulling until his head tilted back. From the back of his pants, he withdrew his gun and placed the barrel on the bottom of Larry's chin. Slowly, Michael leaned close to the fuck's face, taking notice of the fear that had blossomed in Larry's brown eyes as he took the seriousness of his cold steel gaze. "You don't know shit about me, asshole. I'll blow your brains all over your house and continue with my life like nothing ever happened."

"Please, just leave me alone," Larry gasped, pupils constricting when he heard the safety of the gun being flicked off.

"Yea, sure, but you leave Alice alone," Michael said. "You stay away from her, don't even think about her. If I so much as get wind that you caused any trouble for her, or get any ideas of going to the cops about any of this, I'll make sure to find your sorry ass. I won't only make sure you regret ever laying eyes on her, I'll have my buddy have his way with you. Then you're gonna be begging me to shoot your brains. Am I clear?" Michael let go of him enough so that he could respond. Larry began nodding his head.

"Yea, I promise," he said, eyes glued to the gun in Michael's hand.

"Don't make me come looking for you," Michael warned.

"I won't," Larry nodded again.

"Good boy," Michael said, then whipped the butt of his gun on the back of Larry's head. The latter's eyes rolled back, completely blank, before his face slammed into the floor. "Piece of shit." Not wanting to be in the presence of the unconscious man any longer than he had, Michael made his way out and back to his car where Trevor still waited.

* * *

 **Ok, I hope that you guys enjoyed that! I gotta say, writing Michael and Trevor's banter is rather enjoyable. Hopefully, you guys enjoyed it, too.**

 **Take care until next time**

 **\- Dea Lux**


	4. Pandora's Box

**Hello everyone! I am still alive and sorry for the wait. I'll leave any notes for the end.**

 **Once again, I do not own GTA V, it's characters or anything pertaining to it, simply the plot of this story and the OC characters.**

 **Without further ado...**

* * *

Michael watched the actors on set as they played their parts. The sun beat down overhead mercilessly on them, but he was spared the worst of it by the umbrella that offered some shade. Solomon and Guy, the assistant director of the film, watched through the screens that relayed the different angles from all the different cameras. Every now and then they made a comment or a suggestion. Despite the heat from the sun and the stifling breeze that ran through them, Michael was in his happy place. There were few things that gave him greater joy than working on a new movie. Of course, seeing his name during the credits was a very close competitor. A sudden ping from his phone distracted him from the scene before him.

"And cut!" Guy bellowed loudly before Michael was able to take his phone out of his pocket. The actors on set gave a very audible sigh of relief and practically ran to their respective chairs with attached umbrellas.

The leading lady of the film began to fan herself and guzzled down her very expensive water. "It's so hot! It almost makes me wanna do this stupid movie naked," she growled. A group of people approached her, ready to reapply make-up at a moment's notice.

"That actually might be a good idea," Solomon considered for a moment and turned to look at Michael for a second opinion.

"Tempting," Michael conceded, stroking his finger across his chin as he pondered the notion, "but then we'd have to change the rating of the whole movie."

"Agh," Solomon waved away. "We're already behind schedule as it is."

"So, we good on the scene boss?" Guy asked, removing the headset he'd been wearing and running a hand through his short hair.

Even while under the shade they were in, all three men could feel perspiration running down the backs of their necks and dewing their foreheads. Solomon patted his brow with a handkerchief before it could trail into his eyes. "I don't know," Solomon hesitated. "It feels like it needs something."

Michael nodded. "Maybe we could use explosions or make him pick up a mini gun," he said as a thought, ruffling his suit jacket in an attempt to make his own breeze.

"Haha, Michael, I love you!" Solomon exclaimed, clapping him heartily on the shoulder. "We'll have explosions firing in the background _and_ have her fire a minigun!"

Guy glared at Michael, but suppressed an exasperated sigh. "We don't have a minigun," he pointed out. It was no secret in the studio that Guy was trying to suck up to Solomon and the boss's great appreciation of Michael was a thorn at his side.

"Michael will take care of it," Solomon brushed off. "Won't ya Michael?"

Michael grinned widely at both of them. "Not a problem," he assured. "As a matter of fact, there's one that was cut off from another project ready to go. Uh, set 6, I think."

"Wonderful!" Solomon said. "Guy, my boy, go and get the minigun and tomorrow we can reconvene to redo the scene. "

If looks could kill, Michael would have dematerialized from the scorching gaze that Guy sent him. Even though Guy might have been leaner and taller than him, Michael was not in the least bit intimidated by the brown-eyed man. "Sure thing," Guy nodded and grudgingly sauntered over to the waiting actors to relieve them for the rest of the day.

Michael and Solomon began to head back in the direction of the studio offices. As they walked, both of them chatted about the movie in production and the scheduling for the upcoming months, commenting on how busy they were bound to be. "Michael, wanna go have lunch?" Solomon asked. The older man wiped again at the perspiration that crept up again and began to think wistfully of a cold glass of scotch. Getting out of his jacket would also be a great relief.

"Love to, but, I, uh, gotta meet up with my kids," Michael declined the offer and looked at his wristwatch. "Matter of fact, I'm running a little late."

"Then let's get a drink another time," Solomon said good naturedly and began to make his way up the steps into the cool air-conditioned building. Truth be told, the old man quite enjoyed his time with Michael. There was no one else who enjoyed movies as much as he did, thus the younger man was a delight to be around.

"It's a date!" Michael called after him, eliciting a laugh from his boss just as the glass doors closed behind them. As Michael unlocked his car and sat in the driver's seat, he pulled his phone out of his jean's pocket, turned the ignition, and quickly set the car's A/C up to its highest setting. The cool air flowing from the vents was a huge relief to his hot face. After a few moments of basking in the cool air, Michael opened his phone's lock screen and smiled at the newest notification that greeted him.

 _ALICE MERTES has added you to her list of friends on LifeInvader._

He was tempted to press the notification to check out her page, but decided against it as he glanced at the clock on his radio system. Instead, he looked up Tracey's number on his contacts list, dialed her number, and got the car moving.

"Hey, Dad!" Tracey finally answered on his third try as he drove through the streets of Los Santos. Michael ignored the usual rude honks that resounded all around, but did flip off some prick that cut him off.

"Hey, Trace," he greeted. "I'm running late, but I'm on my way to meet you guys at the restaurant."

"Ok, we're already here and I already ordered your usual so it should be here when you get here," Tracey informed him.

"That's my girl," he smiled and hung up. His stomach growled at the prospect of hot and tasty food settling in besides the usual amounts of alcohol that he drank more often than not. A part of him looked forward to seeing Tracey and Jimmy, but another was rather apprehensive. While things seemed to be going well between him and Tracey, the situation with Jimmy seemed to be more or less the same that it was a few years ago. He really hoped that this meeting would end on a positive note, but the ever pessimistic seed that he harbored deep inside scoffed at the weak hope that he clung to. _Still_ , he thought as he parked his car and made his way to join his kids, _Jimmy is my boy._

"Dad! Over here!" Tracey was waving at him from the rear of restaurant with Jimmy besides her. He looked bored and annoyed already.

"Oh boy," Michael grumbled. "Hey, Tracey, Jim." Tracey allowed him to set a kiss on her cheek, and returned it, much to his surprise.

"Pops," Jimmy said in way of greeting.

"It's hot as hell outside," Michael commented, appreciating the cool restaurant interior.

"I hear we have a cold front coming in sometime this evening, but who the fuck knows how long or how cold it'll be," Tracey informed them.

A cold front sounded nice to Michael. "How you both been?" he asked them. Tracey pushed a glass of iced pop towards him. Michael drank from it gratefully and downed it fast.

"Busy," she answered. "I keep having to stay late to practice with a few friends I made at school. They've been awesome in teaching me outside of class and also help me with the other book stuff."

"Oh yea?" he smiled at his daughter. There was obvious happiness within her eyes and then there was the quiver of suppressed excitement. Usually, Tracey would be all for talking his ears off on whatever happened to catch his interests, but she opted to keep things short.

A waiter brought out their food and began to distribute the plates. "Any chance we get to see you dance?" he asked. His glass was taken away for a refill.

Tracey's cheeks reddened a little as she took a sip from her glass of water. "Maybe," she said. "There's a project that I could do if I wanted to, but I still haven't decided."

"Why not?" Michael asked, popping some food into his mouth,

"'Cuz she sucks and she's stupid to be using all this money when she could just go downtown or go to a stripper club," Jimmy interject with a mouth full of food.

"Jimmy," Michael chastised. The excitement that had been tangible from Tracey vanished. A frown settled between her brows and she glared daggers at him. It was then that Michael realized why Tracey wasn't too talkative about her studies.

"Eat shit, Jimmy!" Tracey growled at him. "You sound just like Mom, you mama's boy."

"She's got a point, you know," Jimmy shrugged. "Save whatever brain cells you got left from burning out."

"You're just too stupid and lazy to do anything with your life," she spat at him. From the looks of things, this hadn't been the first argument in regards to the subject.

"At least I'm not barfing up whatever I eat," Jimmy shot back and pretended to stick his finger down his throat.

"Enough!" Michael snapped before Tracey could get another word in. She threw a spiteful glance at Jimmy and then stormed off to the restaurant's bathroom. The two males then noticed that the area around them had gone quiet and tense. Looking around, they were met by the judging gazes of the other patrons who were eavesdropping on their brief but heated argument. Michael ran a hand down his face and turned his back on everyone around them. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Jim?"

"It's always 'oh Dance school this, Dance school that' over and over again," Jimmy complained.

"You didn't have to rip into your sister like that, ya know," Michael said, looking in the direction his daughter had gone off to. "What the hell is going on with you? Is there something you wanna tell me?" He was worried, genuinely worried, and pissed at his son. It seemed that those two emotions were ever present.

"No," Jimmy hesitated. "Yes."

"What?" Michael asked, sat back in his chair and waited for his son to speak.

"Can you buy me a car and get me an apartment?" Jimmy finally asked.

Anger erupted from deep within Michael's chest at the words out of Jimmy's mouth, but it was quickly replaced by blatant disbelief. He chuckled at his son, but then glared at him much like Tracey had done. "You've got to be joking. You're joking, right? Pulling my leg?" he said.

"Dad," Jimmy groaned. "I'm serious."

"Now, why the hell would I do that?" Michael asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"'Cuz I'm your son," Jimmy immediately answered. "And 'cuz I'm sick of watching Mom and her shitty drama."

"Nice fucking try," Michael said sarcastically. "Why don't you ask your mom instead? She took half of everything I ever made." If not more, Amanda had stayed with the house after all. It was something he had decided to give up immediately following Amanda's lawyer serving him with divorce papers. As far as he saw it, the house belonged to his kids and it'd be up to them what to do with it one day, assuming Amanda left it to them in her will.

"I already did," Jimmy admitted.

"And?" Michael prodded, taking a swig from his refilled pop.

"She said no," Jimmy sighed, playing with his fork.

"Well, there ya go," Michael said, looking again to see if Tracey was going to join them again.

"Man, this is fucking bullshit!" Jimmy groaned, letting go of his fork. It clang loudly against his plate. "You guys pay for Tracey's dumb shit and I never get anything."

" _Tracey_ is doing something with her life," Michael countered. "Stop giving your sister a shitty time."

"I am too, you know!" Jimmy burst out. "I want to, anyways."

"Son, life isn't all about 'give me, give me, give me'," Michael said. "You gotta put in the work."

"I tried!" Jimmy said. "Doesn't that count?"

"What? You mean all the odd jobs you've had for, what, three days at most?" Michael said. "That's not putting an effort in. That is just giving up because shit isn't to your liking and feeling above it all."

Jimmy banged his fists against the table and then stood up. "Mom is right!" he bellowed. "You're a fucking asshole!"

A sigh escaped Michael's lips as he stared after his son and then hailed a waiter for the check. He was very aware that there were many eyes on him, but he just didn't give any fucks. When he walked out of the restaurant, he noticed that Tracey's car was still there and decided to wait by her car to make sure she was going to be ok. Jimmy was nowhere in sight, probably had gotten a cab. After a while, he pulled a cigarette out and began to smoke while he waited.

The semi-quietness of his surroundings was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of his phone. "Franklin?" he answered, after looking at his phone's screen.

"Hey, me and Trevor are gonna get our drink on, man," Franklin got right to the point. "Bring yo' ass down by my crib, homie."

"Uh, all right," Michael agreed, and noticed Tracey finally exiting the restaurant. "I'll be on my way in a few, gotta take care of something before I go."

"Gotcha, dog," Franklin said and hung up.

Michael tucked his phone away, flicked his cigarette away, and took Tracey by the shoulders. "You ok?" he asked.

She nodded, but he could see the leftover redness that still clung to her eyes. "Yeah, I'll be fine," she assured him, wiping at her eyes and offering a weak smile. "I gotta go, though. I have a class to get to."

"Ok, sweetpea," Michael nodded, kissed her goodbye, and began to head to his car.

"Oh, Dad?" Tracey called. Michael turned around. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure," Michael said, though somewhat apprehensively. While Tracey was unlikely to ask him something quite on the level like Jimmy, he was still wary about it. There was a time when she would be such a brat to the point that it was easier to give in to her wants than to stand his ground.

"My car is making a funny noise and I'm gonna drop it off at the mechanic's on the way to school," she explained. "Could you give me a ride home after school, around 8:30 or so? I don't want to wait for a cab outside of campus late at night."

"You got it," he agreed and waved as she left. As Michael drove towards Franklin's, he couldn't help but feel incredible guilt at how much of a shitty father he had been. Maybe if he had been more involved with both of the kids, then things would be different. If money hadn't been as high on his priority list, then he could've worked at being a better parent. Who knew? Perhaps, they'd still be in the Midwest, instead of superficial Los Santos, and maybe his daughter wouldn't have a self-image problem he didn't know how to deal with. Maybe his son would have the motivation to do something with his life. Perhaps, if he hadn't cheated, he and Amanda would still be together….

"Fuck!" he muttered under his breath as he pulled into Franklin's driveway. _Don't go that way_ , he reminded himself and exited his car. He was glad to have received Franklin's invitation; his mind was in dire need of a distraction.

"Yo!" he called out as he let himself right into Franklin's modern home.

"Wassup, dog," Franklin greeted him, drink in hand and sitting on one of the armrests' of his sofa. He and Trevor seemed to be in a very good mood.

"Mikey, here at last!" Trevor lifted his glass as well. "We were just reminiscing about the good ol' days when we were government stoolies. You being the biggest stoolie of us all."

"Fuck you, Trevor," Michael waved him away, grabbed a glass tumbler, poured a couple of ice cubes and poured himself a drink.

"What's crackin', man?" Franklin asked him. "You sounded kinda whack over the phone."

"Is it Fake-tits again?" Trevor inquired, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"Nah, it's nothing," Michael shook his head. "Just had lunch with Tracey and Jimmy."

"What's their deal now?" Trevor asked. He'd been around Michael enough to see first-hand the shit that those kids gave him. Of course, Michael wasn't exactly father-of-the-motherfucking-year, so maybe some of it was warranted. "I thought things were going all right between you and Tracey."

"She's fine," Michael nodded, looking at both of them as he took a seat. "It's Jimmy who has me all worked up." So much for the distraction….

"What's that dog up to now?" Franklin asked, though he had a feeling of what already might be going on.

Michael relented with evident exasperation. "He can be such a fucking prick to Tracey, _and vice versa_. I guess it's the same old shit as always," he explained to them.

"I thought Jimmy had gotten a job down by Burger Shot," Franklin said. "Last I heard from the dude he was on the road to self-improvement or some shit like that, homie."

"Nah, he got fired three days into the gig," Michael shook his head.

"What? Did he eat all the fucking orders coming through or what?" Trevor commented.

"Fuck if I know," Michael admitted. "Kid barely tells me anything. Only time I ever fucking hear anything out of his mouth is to ask me to buy him a fucking car or get him his own place."

"Shit, man, I don't know what to say," Franklin admitted. Truth be told, he felt sorry for Michael. The guy tried hard to make up for the past, but, a lot of the times, his efforts often backfired.

"Ehh, don't worry too much about it, pork chop," Trevor said. "Jimmy'll _eventually_ turn his head around or wind up living with Amanda for the rest of his life."

Michael opted to say nothing, instead decided to change the subject. "Anyways, what were you two on about before I got here?" he asked.

"Junior and I were reminiscing about the time we crashed the IAA getting that poor twat who knew jack shit," Trevor answered.

"Fuck, that was the first time I had a damn helicopter wanting to chop my ass down," Franklin recalled. "Second time was down by the harbor doing that fucked up mission we did for nothin'."

"Nearly crapped yourself both times," Trevor laughed.

Michael chuckled, but jumped to Franklin's defense. "Says the prick who was taking a shit by a dumpster or was gonna use a baggie right before the Paleto score," he reminded him.

Trevor was completely unfazed. "When you gotta go, you gotta go!" he declared. "Speaking of dumps, Franklin, I got business to attend to with your bathroom."

"Aw, come on, homie, just don't fucking leave your mess," Franklin groaned. "Nobody needs to see yo fuckin' nastiness."

"Light a match for fuck's sake!" Michael called after Trevor as he descended the stairs to Franklin's guest bathroom. Trevor only flipped them off, even though they couldn't see him. "I'd get the fucking bathroom replaced if I were you, Frank," Michael advised his young friend and colleague.

"Shit, dog, I'm gonna use all my money doing that every single time he takes a shit," Franklin said, making both of them laugh. Michael's phone suddenly rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. "The fuck?" he wondered when he saw Tracey's name and photo appear on his screen. Franklin looked at him inquiringly, but said nothing, just moved to his kitchen to tactfully give him some space. "Tracey, what's going? I thought you're supposed to be in class," Michael answered, getting up from his seat in the couch and moved to stand before a large glass panel.

"Dad," Tracey sounded worried and frustrated. "Mom called me on the way here because fucking Jimmy went crying to her over lunch. I think she's been keeping tabs on you through Lifeinvader. She said something about you being a bigger asshole now that you have -oh, my god, I can't believe I'm gonna say this to you- a new bitch sucking on-"

"Alright, alright, I get it!" Michael cut her off. "But what the fuck is your mom going on about? I don't have anyone like that."

"I don't know!" Tracey said exasperatedly. "I just wanted to give you a heads-up, just in case. Mom sounded totally psycho, so watch out, Dad."

"All right," Michael nodded but felt unworried. "Don't worry about it, ok? Just focus on school." He was wondering what the hell Amanda was going on about, not that it was any of her business if she had.

"Ok," Tracey agreed. "See ya after school, don't forget ok?"

"Yep," he said, and hung up. Why the fuck would Amanda care anyways if he had someone. _You're an idiot_ , he thought to himself as he looked outside the large glass panels that laid out Los Santos covered in the early afternoon sunshine. _She just likes screwing with you_.

Franklin came back, munching on a burger from Burger Shot, and took a seat on the sofa facing his large flatscreen. "You alright, man?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Michael nodded, taking a swig. "Just Amanda fucking around, but I'm not sure what her deal is."

"Fuck, man, I think I'd gone crazy a long time ago dealing with shit like that," Franklin said.

"Remember, Franklin, never get married," Michael advised, and took a seat by the lone black chair.

"Yea, I'm down with that," Franklin nodded. Besides, he was a one-night kind of guy. He hadn't felt anything for anyone ever since Tanisha.

"You bemoaning your marital failures?" Trevor joined them again and sat down back where he had been sitting.

"Hey, man, you got rid of yo' business, right?" Franklin reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Trevor rolled his eyes. "You act like you've never seen turds before."

"You leave monsters, more like," Franklin countered. "Legends can be made out of yo' shit, man."

"Son of a bitch!" Michael suddenly spat out, and took out his phone. Franklin and Trevor looked at each other in surprise and waited to see if they'd be let into whatever the hell was going on. Michael, however, was busy scrolling through his phone and navigating straight to Lifeinvader. When the screen loaded onto the page he had been wanting to see, his heart stopped for a second, then filled with simmering anger and building shame.

"Yo, what's going on?" Franklin prodded, watching as Michael paced back and forth muttering under his breath.

Michael sighed and simply threw his phone to Franklin who caught it. "I gotta go see, Lester," he told them.

* * *

At a quick glance on the outside, Lester Crest's bungalow was as unassuming as the shabby residences in the surrounding area. However, the trio that stood before the camera-guarded entrance knew better. The house before them was probably better equipped than most banks in the United States. Trevor banged loudly on the front door and waited for an answer.

"What do you want?" came Lester's voice over the intercom. The three friends exchanged gazes at the poorly concealed strain on Lester. Not that Lester ever seemed openly happy to see them, but the antagonism within his voice seemed more pronounced than they were accustomed to.

"Is that how you greet a guest, Wheels?" Trevor poked, always looking to get a rise out of Lester.

"Hey, Lest, come on, let us in," Michael urged, shoving Trevor aside, and wondering if Lester's health had turned for the worse.

"It's been a while, homie," Franklin added, looking at the camera by the front door. Trevor was flipping off the camera behind Franklin, eliciting a smile from Michael as he remembered doing the same when he visited Lester for the first time in ten years.

"Fine," Lester agreed reluctantly. They heard the buzzard of the lock disengaging and all filed inside the cramped home. While it was state-of-the-art in regards to technology, there was no denying that the small home was owned by a man who cared more for the virtual world of ones and zeroes than the neatness of his surroundings. Said man appeared before them in his wheelchair, looking a tad thinner than they all last remembered seeing him.

"What the hell, Lest?" Michael asked, going into Lester's bedroom/office. Lester wheeled his chair around so he was facing them. Michael stood just to his right, while Franklin took a seat on the nearby bed, and Trevor lent against the doorframe of the room. "You doing ok?"

"I'm doing just great," Lester answered, nasally voice laced with sarcasm.

"When did you get out of the hospital, man?" Franklin asked, wondering if he'd been sicker than usual.

"About a week ago," Lester said. "Hopefully it'll be awhile before I go back."

"How come we haven't heard from you then?" Michael asked, tapping his fingers against the desk behind him.

Lester scoffed, obviously in a very unfriendly mood. "I don't hear from you for ten years and now I have to give you regular check-ins?" he asked.

"Chill out," Michael raised his hands defensively. "I'm just asking."

"Mmm," Trevor hummed, straightening out from his slouch by the door. "You not answering leads me to believe that there is something, brother. Now, I don't give a shit if it's about you getting your fucking colonics, but you might as well tell us what your deal is so we can get the fuck out of here."

"Dog, if you in some deep shit, you know we'll help a brother out," Franklin coaxed. Michael, and even Trevor, nodded their head in agreement.

Lester looked at the trio before them, regarding them seriously. Michael could see him weighing his options as he gazed at them, mind working faster than most computers in the planet. It really was a shame that his body just couldn't keep up as well...or perhaps that is why his mind ran so much faster and farther than his physical self. With a resigned sigh, Lester nodded his head. "All right," he said, "but you better not whine down the road about this shit."

"Ok," Michael nodded, "so what's the deal?" He was a tad apprehensive about what he was essentially volunteering himself for, but Lester had come through for him so many times that to lend a hand was a no-brainer. Whatever was going on had to be big for Lester to be rattled as he was.

"As you should know," Lester began, "I, uh, have various contacts doing various contracts. Franklin, you've done a few jobs for me so you know an extend as to the nature of the work involved. It's not always hits, though, sometimes the contracts are acquisitions of quality items or the reconnaissance of 'misplaced' information . Anyways, one of my contacts fell through on a major deal to acquire a priceless item and the buyer...well, let's just say he's less than pleased."

"Let me guess," Michael began, "buyer was nice enough to extend the deal to make up for damages and compensation."

'That's about the size of it," Lester nodded. "I'm pretty sure if my location was known to them, I'd have had a visit quite like the ones Martin Madrazo was fond of giving you, Michael."

"How much damages we talking about?" Michael asked, empathetic to Lester's situation.

Lester sighed. "Pretty high," he answered. "Not only did my contact fall through, but the buyer's son was caught and is serving time as of this moment."

"Aw, shit," Franklin groaned. "So, do you need a nigga clapped?"

"We could take out the buyer and be done with this shit," Trevor nodded.

"No!" Lester quickly objected. "Don't fucking touch the buyer, you twat! We'll be dead by this time next week if you do. No, the best thing to do is play along for now. I'll find a way to get out of this mess, but I need time to come up with something."

"What do you need us to do?" Michael asked.

"We've got a to-do list," Lester informed them. "Most of them can be done in one or two-person jobs, but there's a couple of scores that I will need all of you on board, that is, if you're willing to be of, uh, assistance. They're all out-of-state locations so bear that in mind."

"I ain't got shit to do anyways," Franklin said. "Pretty much all my business runs itself."

"As long as I don't have any important TPI business to attend to, I don't see why the fuck not," Trevor agreed.

"I can always take time off from the studio," Michael said.

"I have planning to do and the red-hot items on the list will take a while to prepare for," Lester told them. "Those'll take the longest to take care of, but we'll need the perfect opportunities to be out of this knee-deep shit unscathed."

"Just give the word," Michael nodded.

"I'll make it worth your while," Lester promised them. "Speaking of, what were you guys coming here for? I'm assuming this was more than just a friendly visit."

Michael groaned, his previous feelings returning, though not quite as prominent. The situation he was in paled in comparison to what Lester was going through. "Oh, fuck, yeah, I need your help with something," he answered.

"What is it?" Lester said, moving to his computer and waiting on Michael to say more.

"Well, see, I met this girl a while back," Michael said. "She's helped me out; I've helped her out-"

"But the fuckwad hasn't banged her," Trevor interrupted.

"Shut up, Trevor," Michael snapped. "Anywho, we've become friends. So, today Jimmy and Tracey are having lunch with me. They start tearing into each other and Jimmy goes crying to Amanda."

"So, what does this have to with this, uh, girl, woman?" Lester asked.

"Fucking Amanda thinks she and I are a thing, so, she's plastered Alice's Lifeinvader with fucking porn. I think Jimmy might have helped her out 'cuz I see different profiles posting shit like the little prick did with a while ago when he was trolling some poor fucking soul," Michael finished.

"Shit man, Amanda is sure a cat I wouldn't like being mad at me," Franklin commented.

"I think the word you're looking for, Frank, is 'bitch'," Trevor said. While Amanda had been married to Michael, he had been respectful in his own strange manner. However, once the divorce papers had been signed and his best friend left to wither on his own, Trevor had felt a quick rise in hostility towards the ex-stripper.

"So what do you want me to do?" Lester asked, though he had a feeling of what Michael had come to ask of him.

"Just take all that shit off her page, would ya?" Michael said.

"Jesus, fat man, you've got your panties in a twist for such a trivial matter," Trevor poked. "You got the hots for this chick? Want her to call you Daddy while her head slams against the headboard?"

"It ain't like that, you fucking prick," Michael shook his head while he handed Lester his phone so he could see her profile and her full name. "I don't know. There's just something about this girl that makes you wanna do right by her."

"Hmm, well, she's definitely not your usual," Lester said as he pulled her page on his computer and they all saw her picture. Her hair was tied messily behind her and there was paint drying on her cheek and hair. While she wore a white paint-stained tank top, there wasn't the usual amount of bosom or cleavage that was typical of Los Santos. As far as Trevor or Franklin could see, her chest was not something to have heads turning around. She also had a sunny smile rather than the usual sensual looks most women posted. Her arm was wrapped around a little boy (Kaleb, Michael remembered) who also had the same light-gray paint drying on his skin and clothing.

Both of their eyes' shone with happiness as they clung to each other. "Soccer mom, much?"

"No fucking clue," Michael admitted.

"I remember her," Trevor said, looking over their shoulder. "And the little brat too."

"Hey, man, is she the one I dropped off that whip at that apartment complex down by Morningwood?" Franklin asked.

"Yup," Michael nodded as he watched Lester open new windows on his screen and get to work.

"You want to know about her?" Lester suddenly asked after a few minutes, having already gained access to various sorts of records while he worked on clearing the porn out.

Michael hesitated. A huge part of him was very curious, but a bigger part of him was telling him to mind his own fucking business. "Nah, I'm good," he declined. "I just want that shit gone, and it'd be fucking great if Jimmy and Amanda can't do nothing anymore to her."

"Don't worry," Lester chuckled rather maliciously. "If they try posting any more stuff, they'll find that their own Lifeinvader will hold a few surprises hard to deal with."

"Thanks, Lest," Michael sighed in relief.

"We done here?" Trevor asked, ready to hit the road. He wasn't one to stay still for long and he was itching for something to do.

"Trevor, I need to go into details for the first job, so, if you can stay, I'll have you briefed," Lester said.

"Good, good, I need to get rid of some excessive energy," Trevor agreed enthusiastically.

"What about you Frank?" Michael looked at Franklin. "Need a ride home?"

"Nah, I'm good, man," Franklin declined. "I'll chill with these two then catch a cab on my way home."

"Then see you guys later," Michael bid them goodbye and headed back out to his car. Once inside, he took out his phone and unlocked it. Alice's and Kaleb's beaming smiles greeted him and he looked at the picture for a second, noting her vibrant green eyes and his stormy gray ones. Quickly going to his contacts, he hesitated over Alice's number, wondering if he should call. For one thing, he wanted to apologize for the whole matter, but another part of him pestered at him to let things be. Perhaps, if he was lucky, she might not have noticed; she struck him as the kind of person who checked her Lifeinvader every few days rather than every few minutes. "Fuck it," he murmured and pressed her number.

The phone kept ringing and he had almost thought that she wouldn't respond when there was a response. " _Hello_?" Alice answered, somewhat tentatively.

"Hey, Alice, it's Michael," he said, though he was sure that she knew that already, but wasn't sure where to start.

" _Hey, Michael_ ," she greeted, waiting for him to say something.

"Listen, uh, I was wondering, do you have a few minutes?" he asked, looking at the time on his car's center console and noting the orange and pink beginning to tinge the sky as the sun neared the end of its descent. Maybe it was too late in the day; she had a kid and a job, after all.

" _Well_ ," Alice hesitated. Michael wondered if it was because of what had happened to her Lifeinvader page. " _I'll be heading to a children's' playground on Vinewood hills. We can meet there if you'd like._ "

"I'm on my way," he agreed, turning on his car and setting it to drive.

" _Be careful on the road, Michael_ ," she said.

"Will do," he assured and hung up. As he drove closer and closer to where he had agreed to meet up with her, he began to feel foolish. He wanted to apologize for what Amanda had done, even though it wasn't exactly his fault. Michael had meant what he told Trevor: there was something about Alice that made him want to do what was right. Maybe it was because she had been nothing but nice, friendly, and helpful the couple of times that they had bumped into each other. Whatever, it was, he felt it was only right to apologize to her personally rather than by a cold email or text message.

The sky overhead became tinged with some purples by the time that he stopped his car right behind her car. A slight chill clung to the air, signaling that a change in weather was in the horizon, and making him recall Tracey's words at lunch. Cheers and shouts of laughter rang through the air as various little ones ran around, chasing one another and engaging in games only they could understand. A few parents shared the few benches within the gates while others hung by the chain-link fence. Barks and yipping were carried by the wind from the nearby dog park. After a quick glance, he spotted Alice leaning on a fence post by the children's enclosed play area with a rather pensive look on her face.

"Alice?" he called to her, hoping not to startle her. She turned around upon hearing her name, and smiled when she saw it was him.

"Michael, it's good to see you," Alice addressed, bringing her red cardigan closer to her when a gust of wind blew by. She was glad that she had tied her hair loosely or it'd be flying all over the place and that she'd worn jeans. If only she had worn her sneakers rather than her flats….

"You too," he said, moving to stand beside her. "It's been a while." Oh he was such an idiot. On the surface, he seemed calm and collected, but he was really trying to figure out quickly what to say or do. "Hopefully Tracey's been doing good in class."

"She works very enthusiastically," Alice said, giving a quick glance at Kaleb playing with some of the other kids. "I'll be sad to not be her teacher by the end of the semester." Both of them lapsed into a somewhat awkward silence, unsure as to how to proceed. Michael was stuck between beating around the bush or directly approaching the subject he had in mind. "Was there anything I can help you with? You sounded serious over the phone…"

Michael took a deep breath and decided to just go for it since she had pretty much given him the perfect opportunity to apologize rather than tactfully work up to it. "Yea, I, uh, wanted to apologize," he admitted. Her emerald eyes filled with confusion as she turned to look at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "For Lifeinvader."

"Oh," Alice wasn't sure of what else to say, but he saw the slight pursing of her lips that clued him in to what may be going inside her head. "I, uh, it's ok, Michael. You don't have to apologize." Alice meant what she said, but couldn't help the feelings of irritation and anger she had felt earlier break the surface.

"Of course, I do," Michael said, reading her like an open book. "It couldn't have been...pleasant to have had that happen to you and because of my ex-wife."

"I just don't understand," Alice confessed, turning to look at him after making sure she wouldn't be glaring at him. "Why is your ex-wife angry with me?"

"She has this notion that you and I….well, that you and I are together, maybe," he answered.

"Why would she think that?" Alice asked, fidgeting with the hem if the black shirt she wore underneath her cardigan.

Michael shrugged his shoulders, unsure as to why himself. "I never really knew what went on in her head besides that she was unhappy while she was with me," he professed.

"Well, I guess, it won't matter," Alice sighed. "I'm going to deactivate my account later on tonight, so don't worry about it." There was still lingering anger residing deep within her, but Alice could see the remorse Michael felt and the conviction of his apology. He wasn't at fault and it was all a misunderstanding. Right before his eyes, Michael saw tension leave her shoulders and her entire face relax as she glanced again at her son to make sure he was still playing with the other children.

"No, don't do that," he objected. "I took care of the problem. You won't find any of that kind of stuff anymore."

She looked at him with surprise and smiled somewhat slyly at him. "Do I want to know how you managed to do that?" she asked. "Even the people with Lifeinvader were unsure, or unwilling, about what to do besides the usual 'we'll look into it' or shutting down my account."

Michael returned her smile, feeling rather proud of himself even though he hadn't been the one to clear up the mess. Not exactly, at least. "I have my ways," he teased.

Before they could continue onto much more pleasant chit chat, they were interrupted by the sound of running feet heading in their direction. Kaleb stopped on the other side of the fence right before them, chest slightly heaving from the exertion and eyes alight with the fun he'd been having. When he caught sight of Michael, Kaleb flashed him a smile and waved his little hand in greeting. "Hello, Mr. De Santa," he said.

"Hey Kaleb," Michael acknowledged.

"You ok, Kaleb?" Alice queried.

"I'm hungry, Mom," he replied.

Alice and Michael looked towards the sky at the same time, noting that they pinks and oranges had given away to a solid purple and the lamp posts had been lit. Time had gone much faster than they had realized. "All right, then let's go grab a bite," she nodded. Kaleb took off towards the exit of the playground and towards them again. "Michael, would you like to join us?" she asked, watching Kaleb as he approached.

Not wanting to intrude, Michael declined. "That's all right," he said. "I'm supposed to meet Tracey at the college soon. You guys go and have a nice night."

"Are you sure?" Alice asked, arm encircling her young son as he came close to her. The three began to make their way towards their vehicles.

"Yeah, besides, I think the De Santas have been enough of a headache for one day for you," he assured, waiting by the passenger door of his car as she got Kaleb (right after he waved at him goodbye) inside her car and had him strap in securely.

"Like I said, you have nothing to apologize for," she repeated, moving to the driver's side. "And thank you for returning my page to how it was. I appreciate it."

"It was the least I could do," he said, opening his own door and began to step inside.

"Be careful on the road, ok?" Alice called, stepping into her car and closing her door. With a final wave out her window, Alice drove forward.

Michael turned on his car and checked his phone for any messages he might have missed. There was only one of Tracey telling him she'd be delayed by a half hour or so, giving him plenty of time to get to the college and wait for her. There was a rather happy feeling in his gut as he drove forward. It had been the right thing to talk to Alice directly. Not only had his mind been set at ease, but so had been hers, for that matter. "Fuckin' A," he exclaimed to himself, flipping channels on the radio as he turned a corner and heading towards an intersection. He was amused to see Alice's car waiting for the light to turn green so she could continue on her way. A ping on his phone caught his attention, so he eased on the gas pedal as he got closer towards the intersection and Alice's car. It was Tracey thanking him. Overall, the day hadn't been a total loss, he thought.

The light turned green before he could get closer and Alice made to turn to her left. A loud screech suddenly broke through the peace inside his car, drawing his eyes towards a speeding car in the intersecting lane. His heart clenched tightly as his brain processed the events unfolding before his eyes. " _Alice!_ " he roared, knowing full well his warning would go unheard. The unmistakable sound of metal against metal rent through the air as both cars collided and then there was an eerie silence as both cars came to a standstill; Alice's a few feet away from where it had originally been.

* * *

 **So, I hope you've enjoyed that!**

 **It's taken me a while to release this chapter, I know, and I hope you guys can forgive me. It took me a loooong time to find the right way to continue. Once I figured that out, the chapter flowed a little easier. Like I've said before, I don't give up on my stories; it just might take me a long time to post stuff. Please tell me if how you guys feel about it, if the characters are OOC, or any concerns. I love hearing from all of you.**

 **Until next time!**

 **-Dea Lux**


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